Camp Fairfax
by PJTHGTBBTFANATIC73
Summary: Percy Jackson has been depressed for years now and has decided to put his suicidal thoughts into action. Once he does however, well he can't go through with it because of his friends and the cops. Then, he heads on over to Fairfax, a mental hospital, where he meets another boy he connects with. Suicide, sex, M/M, and self harm. Based on a true story.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! So, I decided to write about the mental hospital in the version of Percy Jackson and the Olympians/ Heroes of Olympus style! I figured it's something hopefully someone will connect with or just get a clear picture of what it's like in one. I'm also currently writing a book on this, so hopefully you all like it.

The air was crisp and clean as the rain lightly sprayed my face. The gun to my left shined as bright as the sun on the Santa Clarita ocean front. I could see the whole city of Brooklyn as I sat on the roof of my two-story, Spanish style home. There wasn't much I felt in this serene moment on the rooftop. The feeling of emptiness was overwhelming me as I heard sirens all around me. With my cell phone in my left hand, my best friend Annabeth's number was staying on the line, filling the void with the sounds of empty promises and sobbing that made it all incomprehensible.

The only reason why I had chosen today, was that there would be no one in my family to witness the horror of my blood splattering the roof. Yet, the most idiotic thing I had done was sending my suicide letter to my two best friends. Now, when I look back at that moment, I believe I wanted to be stopped. Some part of me just didn't want to give up on life yet. I suppose it was just natural selection saying, "Hey, you still need to be here and fulfill your role." Whatever that role is, I still don't know. But, there is something out there for me.

There was a cop trying to hide out in my bitch of a neighbor's driveway with binoculars focused upon none other than me. What I was doing on my roof could easily be seen by the simpletons below, waiting for the my next move as if we were playing a game of chess. But, if anything, we were playing a game of Russian Roulette with my .32 caliber Ruger and I had just lost my luck.

**_ So, please tell me what ya'll think. Should I continue it or not?. If you think that I should let you guys get a sneak peak at the next chapter, so you could get more of a clear picture, here it is. _**

I, Percy Jackson, haven't always been depressed and suicidal believe it or not. At some point in my life I was happy, wasn't that the same with everyone? I meant at a moment in one's life, they had been happier than another moment in time. Mine was when I was younger and before my mom got with Smelly Gabe, even if my father had left when I was a baby. My mom, Sally, is the nicest person you could ever meet. She always had a smile on her face when I saw her and made me blue food all the time. I feel pretty bad about putting her through all of this shit, but I couldn't take any of Smelly Gabe's antics, I just couldn't. I wish I could have been stronger for her. I wish I could have just been stronger in general. But yet, here I am, in the ambulance strapped down to a gurney, on the way to the hospital.

I wondered how much each individual person can handle sometimes. It's like this huge mystery box that you can't open until your breaking point, and exactly like the meaning of life. Ambiguous. Let me give you one little piece of advice. Life fucks you in the ass, no matter what you're like. For instance, my mom: nice, funny, doesn't harm even a fly, yet she's married to a fat ass drunk, who only sits on his ass all day as she makes minimum wage at a Candy Store. However, don't compare your life to another human beings', because they are completely separate from you. Especially with the types of families out there.

It reminds me of how the Christian belief says that we are all one big family. However, some also wind in that incest and being gay are two no no's. If you look at it quite closely, they say in the bible that Jesus was God's only son, but yet we are all his children. So, we are all a bunch of girls in His eyes. Secondly, sex is screwed up too, since we are all one family, therefore it's incest. Hypocrites they are, all of them. However, that's the technicalities of religion that we are supposed to overlook. What else they damn us to hell for is committing the murder of yourself. Since, you know you are to be able to handle everything Life throws at you. At the same time, they expect you to apologize about how your actions were selfish as they are being selfish for making you suffer even longer in life. My two best friends belief in that, and they realize they do it too. They are the main reason of why I am still alive today. The other half, was me letting my reckless emotions getting me to put down the gun and climb down to the cops.

**_So, questions, comments, concerns, just inbox me or leave a review. I take everything in the highest respect and concern. Thank you for taking the time to read this and I'm sorry if you think you wasted your time on this._**


	2. Getting Admitted

As I was wheeled into the hospital, I was recounting what I was being so angry at. It could have been my friend Grover for calling the cops. It could have been Annabeth sobbing on the phone trying to coax me out of doing it. Yet, the most plausible one, was that I even told them I was committing suicide. I still don't know why I'm still so angry about it. I'd rather not dwell on it as I'm getting asked the same hundred questions that the cops asked me. Something about cycling just makes me even angrier.

At the same time, I was also extremely anxious. The environment was quite stressful with everyone running around and hearing other patients yell at their families. It was, to say the least, like everyone was preparing last minute for the apocalypse happening at the moment. Getting last minute supplies, taking care of loved ones, crying, being frantic: I was ready to do all of the above if it wasn't for the restraints. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the team of emergency responders wheeled me in backwards to room 3AB where there was a girl already laying in her bed. Her hair was like a bird had been nesting in it and her skin was carmelized as her sharp, daring eyes analyzed me while she ate her pudding cup.

They lowered the gurney next to the bed and let me out of the restraints as long as I was compliant. Next, they stripped me of all my clothing except my briefs and socks, in front of my nurse, Chiron. I asked them why not everything and they told me if I could find a way to commit suicide with underwear and socks, they would really like to know. Apparently, the hospital makes everyone super creative because I found out two different ways to do the deed. Not that I would tell them. They asked me for the whole story of why I was where I was and all I could think as I recounted the story, was why they had everyone else write the records if they weren't going to read it.

After all the meaningless tasks were said and done with, they allowed me visitors. They told me that anything I said to them was confidential and wouldn't be told I unless I gave the say-so. Then, they told me who came to see me in my time of need and it was between my mother and Smelly Gabe. I think you know who I chose without question. My mother came in and sat down without a word, just a fresh line of tears streaming down her face as her smile lit up her face. I decided to break the ice with a simple:

"Hello, Mom."

"Hey sweetheart." She sniffled. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, you know, just a bit hopeless." I said, staring at her face.

I saw no reason to lie. She is my mother and one of three people I could trust. Witnessing that her child just tried to commit suicide is one of the worst things that she could have possibly experienced. Therefore, I felt sarcasm was not the best way to get my emotions across to my mother.

"I'm sorry, Honey. I wish I could have be-."

"No, Mom. None of this is your fault. Do not try blaming yourself for my problems. You are the best mom that I can ask for. I'm just not right in the head right now."

"Okay. You know I love you, right?" She said, as the tears streaming down her face, renewed.

"Yes, Mom. I love you also."

After that short, awkward start out, we talked of how her work went and when I got out of the hospital what I was going to do. I was thinking about going to see both of my friends to celebrate being out of confinement. Avoiding the elephant in the room of me trying to commit the murder of myself, it was nice to just be ourselves. Unfortunately, when the time came to around two AM, the social worker waltzed right in looking like the Wicked Witch of the West. She spoke with a voice that sounded like she was a chain smoker, which disgusted me.

"You can decide if your mother stays in the room or not." She uttered throatily. I decided not to let my mother hear the recounted events of yesterday evening. So, I gave a quick shake of the head, and she was ushered out of the room by my nurse.

"Well," she started. "Why don't you tell me your day before everything went down?" She pulled out a pen from her jacket pocket and stared me down till I started.

"It started out as a normal day, believe it or not. I rolled out of bed this morning around six, and headed off to school before anyone woke up. Then, my classes started at 8:05 with Advanced Algebra/Trigonometry, U.S History, Culinary Arts, and P.E. So, there's nothing out of the ordinary there." I added in, "After that, I went to lunch where I ended up showing my deepthroating skills on a banana and hit my friend Grover. Many times." Her eyes went wide in disbelief as I said that last part. I had to hold back a chuckle as I continued on. "Before long, I went to my fifth period class where we did watercoloring and at my sixth period, where I sat with morons talking about uber moronic stuff." I finished with a heavy sigh.

"Uh-huh. So, that's an average day for you then?" She questioned.

"Yes. I hit my friends and get bored easily. Every. Freaking. Day."

"Okay. Well, let's get to the type of events that have happened to you that may have caused this endeavor then, shall we?" I nodded my head once and she shot out questions like torpedos. " Have you ever been physically, emotionally, or sexually abused?"

"No, yes, and yes." I flinched upon the last answer because I still felt sore about the subject.

"Let's start with emotional abuse, then. Who was it by and how was it done?" She asked without hesitation.

"Uh, by my Stepdad, Gabe Ugliano, and ex-boyfriend, Luke , lives with my mom and I and he just says how much of a pussy I am, or calls me a girl. Luke, well h-he would threaten me each day that I would have to do something with him in order for my n-nudes to not get leaked to the whole school." I quickly rushed out. Talking about all of my past experiences with terrible people does not suit my fancy. It is absolutely terrifying to remember what they did to me and how it made me the way I am; wanting to commit suicide at my house with a gun.


End file.
